We are finally moving.
Still and finally.
And the floors still aren't done. And the walls aren't quite painted.
But, we're moving. Because, well, that's how life works. They will be done, but ready or not, HERE WE COME.
Except for the boxes.
So, now I play Tetris with the boxes.
And then I breathe, and check in with the world, and find out that Nora Ephron is dead, which is absolute bullshit and totally unfair. Death is often unfair, but also so very much a part of life that I'm not sure why we still feel that way about it. Still, it's unfair to those of us hanging around after to be left without those who leave us. It sucks. No more Nora Ephron.
Just boxes. And Tetris.
Lots of memories in there. Also books. So. Many. Books.
It's an odd thing arranging your life into boxes and then into a bigger box. At the end, you end up in a box of your own—pine or something of the sort. Your stuff becomes somebody else's stuff to put into boxes and move around. The circle of boxes continues.
Life. Death. Boxes.
RIP, Nora Ephron. I loved your work. I hope somebody loves moving your boxes around.